


They found her in the woods.

by billie758657



Series: Negan's daughter [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Father-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Negans daughter, Negans pov, Other, Paranoid negan, Past Abuse, Saviours pov, Service, Simon loves his food, Simons pov, Swearing, They have cardamom gelato i shit you not, Traumatised character, rape mention, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10474431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billie758657/pseuds/billie758657
Summary: When a group of saviors go out scavenging, they find a lot more than they bargained for.In the precarious game of staying in negan's good favour, numerous lives hang on the fate of an unsuspecting girl who just wants to find her father.





	1. Travis

 Travis was having a spectacularly shitty day. He and his boys had been providing slim pickings lately- through no fault of their own as far as he was concerned. Especially seeing as the areas they’d been given had already been turned over a few times.

But these things have consequences and just that morning Simon himself had warned him that if they didn’t find something worthwhile soon, they would find themselves working for points again and that would simply not do.

So they looked again. Through the desolate buildings, every drawer, under every bed, every glove compartment. They spread out covering a long line a few acres across and trudged through the forest for something. Anything.

Which was when they found her.

A young woman, alone, so dirty she could have blended in with the mulch on the ground. She carried a large rucksack, stained and torn but still seemingly crammed full with goods. It was exactly what they needed. As though someone packaged her up just for them.

Travis alerted the others with the signal. A low whistle, easily mistaken for a bird, but he catches the way her shoulders tense up. She knew. He watched her slow her pace to a stop. She definitely knew. 

It didn’t matter though. She was out numbered and out gunned. Presuming she even had one. The way she reacted made him wonder if she belonged to one of the settlements nearby but even then, it still didn’t matter. Given the state of her, and the fact that she looked like a gust of wind would knock her on her ass, it was anyone’s guess.

Either way she belonged to Negan now. They all did.

The returning whistles of his comrades began to haunt the trees, echoing around the girl as they all began to close in. Today would be a good day for them. They needed this. And hey, maybe she needed it too. Things could always be worse after all. If she didn’t? Well too fucking bad.

Travis always found it morbidly fascinating to see how their prey reacted to being cornered. Sometimes they would try to run, maybe fight their way out. Those were interesting, entertaining sometimes too.  Even if they didn’t, each person reacted a little differently to the one before them and this girl was no exception.

Crossing in front of her, Travis watches they way she trembles in front of him. her chest heaving erratically, her eyes wide with a strange sort of vacant glaze, as though she wasn’t fully there. He wheezes a laugh, amused by the way she can’t even look up at them properly, jerking her head to the left and right taking them in from her peripherals instead. 

The whistling now, is so loud and so intense that it rings in his ears. Glancing behind her to see his men forming a circle around her, he raises a fist and the woods fall silent once again save for girl’s ragged breath. Poor little shit looks as though she might pass out any second.

With a sigh,Travis squares his shoulders and takes a few strides towards her, stowing his gun, seeing as there’s several others pointed in her direction. He could just tell though, gut instinct maybe, that she wasn’t a threat. This was going to be easy.

“Well hi.”

The girl barely moves an inch, staring at the ground by his feet still wide-eyed like a doe caught in the headlights. Her breathing uneven but growing more controlled as she got a grip of herself. Oh yeah, she knew what she was doing. Travis thought for a moment there that she might be one of the crazies, out on her own for too long but this girl still had something about her. Ducking his head a little to break into her line of sight, he smiles a little, taking another step towards her.

 “Excuse me honey but I just said hello. It’s not polite to just ignore me now is it?”

He gives her a moment and sure enough, the girl squeezes her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath and pulls her head up high. Meeting his gaze with such an intense fire that it takes him aback for a second. He wondered what she had been though in life to have that look about her. 

 “Well, ‘aint you pretty.” 

The girl narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. Well if looks could kill he’d be a dead man for sure. Lucky for him he supposed. It was hard to be intimidated by someone who was shakin’ like a leaf anyway. Travis smirked and paused, trying to goad her into saying something, anything. He wanted to know what she sounded like.

“What’s got your tongue darlin’? No hablo Ingles?”

Travis hears a snort somewhere to his right. Probably Antonio but he couldn’t give less of a shit about his crap pronunciation right now. All he was really bothered about was getting this woman and all her shit back to Simon so he would get off their backs. All the posturing didn’t mean a thing right now anyway. He was only kidding himself thinking he had any weight to throw around.

Checking her over again for any sign of - anything, Travis realised that this stubborn thing wasn’t going to give them an inch. Well that was fine. They didn’t need to know. What they needed they could just take. Straightening up, he clapped his hands together finally getting down to business, noticing the way she flinched at the sound. 

“Alrighty then, suit yourself. First thing’s first Sweetheart. If you would be so kind as to hand over your weapons we can all get on with our day.”

With a long suffering sigh, she reached to pull a blade out of her belt loop. Another from the strap on her bag, dropping them both to the floor. Then, rather reluctantly, she withdrew a small pistol from under her thin jacket, holding it backwards so not to disturb any twitching trigger fingers. Travis decided that she must have been through this before, knowing how to make herself seem less of a threat. Smart girl.

“Toss it to your right.”

Co-operating nicely, the gun ends up on the forest floor. One of his men picks it up quickly and checks the barrel, shaking his head lightly. “Empty.”

Travis snorts - typical - some amo would have been nice. Especially seeing as one of the armories was raided a few weeks ago. But whatever, at least they has something. “Empty huh. Girl you are lucky we found you. That it? No more nasty surprises?” 

The girl shakes her head, opting not to speak yet again. Travis had to wonder if she even could talk. That would be a bitch. He loved talking. Speaking of which, he needed to get this over with. He always hated the next part. Left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, but that was the way the world worked now.

“So here’s how it is. As of right this fucking now, all of your shit now belongs to Negan. And, as of right now, you belong to Negan too so -”

“-Negan?” Cutting him off mid-speech, the girl widened her eyes as if suddenly seeing him for the first time. 

“Well fuck me. She can talk!” Travis laughed, squinting at her incredulously as a ripple of laughter circles round them.

Opening her mouth to talk again, she stops and closes her eyes for a second or two, huffing slightly as though she was struggling against herself. Under his expectant gaze, she eventually manages to stammer out the words. “Did you say Negan?”

Her voice sounds scratchy, dry as though she hadn’t found anything to drink lately. Given the state of her it wasn’t surprising. Hearing a hint of recognition in her voice Travis considered that maybe she was from one of the settlements nearby after all. Or better yet, maybe she was on the run from The Sanctuary - better for him that is. 

Nodding, Travis replied, raising an eyebrow. “That’s right sugar.”

“Where is he?” She blurts out, her voice laced with desperation. 

Furrowing his brow, Travis cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“Negan. Can you- Can you tell me where I can find him? Please.”

Now that was confusing as hell. No one ever wanted to see Negan. Ever. In fact, he felt sorry for those at the sanctuary who had to be around him almost all the time. At least at the outpost he had a bit of distance from him. Sure Simon was a hard ass but no one brought the sense of dread quite as well as Negan. 

Why the hell was a girl like that trying to find a guy like Negan? Maybe she was crazy after all. Shaking his head, he blinks a few times. “Doesn’t work like that darlin’.”

“No I - I need to find him.”

“Girl, you stupid? You don’t make demands. Not of me, not of Negan. You ain’t shit to anyone.”  Scowling, Travis raises his voice, making her flinch and cast her eyes down once again. Dammit. 

For a moment she just breathes, blinking and squeezing her eyes shut. He hoped she wasn’t going to start crying. He hated it when they cried. But no, thankfully, the girl got a grip of herself and tried again. “Please. It’s important. He’s - He’s gonna want to see me.”

“Who the fuck are you to be so special?” Travis was annoyed now. This was supposed to be easy but the girl was making everything harder than it had to be. But something about the way she was talking made him wasn’t right. Maybe he was missing something.

At his question she opens her mouth again but nothing comes out. Closing it again she looks back to the ground and shakes her head, as though she’d thought better of telling him. Travis scoffs and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ figures.”

She takes a tentative step forward, her eyes desperate and hopeful. “Please.”

It crosses his mind that Travis could make this girl beg for him all pretty-like. Might make him feel good is someone was kneeling at his feet for a change. If she was going to ask like that then he’s pretty sure he could get her to do anything for him under the promise of seeing Negan - why he would never understand. All the things he could have her do - but no. No this shit was getting out of hand as it was. They needed to get going. 

“Tell you what. You play nice and listen real good and I’ll think about it okay?”

She stares at him for a long moment, as though trying to read his face, before nodding resignedly, eyes squeezing shut yet again before looking at him expectantly. Shit she really would do anything. What had this kid been through?

It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. “Take your bag off. On the floor.”

He watched, growing more detached by the second, as she lowered her bag to the floor, swaying with the weight of it. “Good. Empty your pockets too.”

A couple of rags and a broken watch later she was finished. He motions to the man behind her who stows his own gun and walks toward them pulling out a couple of cable ties from his pocket. “Now, hands behind your back.”

As she complied, Travis motioned to the surly man behind her to come forward. “Alderman, start take her back to the truck. Hey! Nicely.” He added as the girl was yanked in the right direction. Travis watched how she let herself be pulled about like a rag doll, like she had accepted her fate. What was it with this chick?

With the girl on her way he rounded up the last of his men. “Mckenna go through her shit. See if there’s anything good in there. Last thing I need is to take back another mouth to feed without bringing in any actual supplies.”

Tony appears to his right, stooping down to pick up the broken watch from the forest floor. “What the fuck was that about? Crazy shit. You gonna tell Negan?”

Double checking his own gear before they started walking back, Travis shakes his head. “Nah. I’ll tell Simon when we get back. He can decide what to do with her then. I don’t know what her fucking game is but I ain’t pissing him off and interrupting his day.”

“Shit!”

The men immediately drew their guns back up to full height, startled, to find McKenna sucking on his hand, crimson flowing out the side. 

“What, what is it?”

“Fucking cut my hand on something. Stupid bitch had broken glass at the bottom of this thing.”

Tony snatched the bag from his grip and peered inside. “It’s a photo frame genius.”

Rolling his eyes, Travis started making his way towards the truck. Today had been a good day after all, Simon would be pretty happy.

“Wait.”

“Oh for the love of - What now?” He had had just about enough of today's shit. It was time to go back.

Turning round to look back at his men he finds three of them crowded round Tony looking at a piece of paper in his hand. 

“Holy shit.”

“Is that?”

“What is it? Lemme see.”

Leering over what he now realised was an old photograph, ice ran through Travis’ veins. Negan really would want to see her. “Crap. Everyone back to the fucking truck. Now!”

Sprinting to the truck they caught up with them just in time to see her stepping clumsily into the back. She flinched as she saw them running towards her. If he had thought it through, maybe he would have been more considerate but he had a theory to check.  If this went badly they were all dead.

“What’s your name kid?” Travis  barked at the trembling girl who responded like clockwork.

“Grace.”

Realising how useless that question was, Travis growled to himself. Think damnit. He realised how little he knew about Negan and considered showing her the picture but an idea came to him. 

“What’s your mother’s name?”

 Her eyebrows furrowed, another sign that told him she had more about her than she was letting on. “Why?” She hesitated.

“Answer the fucking question!”

“Lucille. Why?"  She repeated, this time with more fire than before.  He had no doubt she was a fighter but he had bigger problems. 

 "Mothefucker.” Turning his back on her he slammed the truck door shut, cutting her out of the conversation. 

 "Hey!“

 Ignoring her, he turns to his men who are looking to him for direction. Any other time he would feel proud of himself but right now he just felt sick. "Parker. Gimme the radio.”

 "Why?“ 

 "Fucking hand it over.” 

He flipped it to channel 7 and, taking a deep breath, he called out. “Arat?" 

It didn't take long before a disgruntled Wigan answered back. "Who is that?”

 "It’s Travis.“ 

 "Kinda busy here Travis." 

 "Yeah. I know. But I need to talk to Negan.”

Waiting for her reply, McKenna breaks the silence that had fallen around them. "That’s really his kid?“ 

 "Looks like it.” Travis nodded grimly.

 "Wait. Maybe we can use this.“

 Narrowing his eyes, Travis squared his shoulders and took a step towards the larger man.  No way was he going to let some asshole with a grudge threaten his status. Scavenging was better than a while lot of things.  

"You better not be talking about what I think you’re talking about Tony." 

Arat’s voice crackled over the speaker cutting him off. "You know Negan is fucking busy today Travis. No interruptions. We’re in the middle of something." 

 Sighing,  Travis weighed his options. If it was his daughter, he'd want to know immediately. It was to much to risk it. "Believe me. I know. I wouldn’t be bugging you unless it was important okay. He’s gonna want to know about this. Right fucking now.”

 "I’m just saying-“ Why did Tony pick today of all days to be an asshole? 

 ”-don’t. Just don’t. Y'know what happens if we fuck this up? We’re dead. Okay? We’re doing this the right way and playing it safe. Fuck. Maybe we’ll get something good outta it.“

 Arat replied, sounding a little too curious for his liking. "What is it?”

 "It’s private.“

 "Are you fucking kidding me?”

 "It’s Negan’s personal business and I don’t think he would appreciate me spreading that around alright? Now would you go get him? Please?“

 After a long pause, the radio came back to life.  "Fine. It’s your head.”

 "Thank you.“ About time.

 "You sure this is a good idea?" 

 "What if it’s a trick?” Bunch of babies. Waiting till he put his neck on the line before offering any advice.  Bastards.

Clenching his jaw, Travis had had enough. "Yeah and what if it isn’t huh? Too late now anyway so shut up.“ 

They waited with baited breath,  a sure sign of the one thing they all had in common. Fear. Travis spared a look inside the truck to see the girl starting down at her lap. He wasn't sure how much of that she had heard but it didn't matter. 

A thick drawl cut through the silence making the hairs on the back of Travis’ neck stand up.  

“Who the fuck is this?”

 


	2. Negan

It was times like these that Negan wondered why he bothered. 

He had gone to all the trouble of organising every last thing, delegating to Simon and Wade so that the bunch of babies that worked under him could get by without him having to hold their hand for one fucking day. And yet there he was, in the middle of a pretty fucking important job being interrupted by some asshole who thought he knew better. He wasn't sure exactly when he became a babysitter but he sure wasn't being paid enough for that shit.

Negan had been rather enjoying himself too, in the company of a woman who might just end up dead by the end of the day, watching everyone run around – there was nothing like the threat of death to set a fire up everyone’s ass. He thrived on the tension and fear in the air. Despite the setback with the kid with the man sized balls, and this ‘mix up’ with the guns, he could tell today was going to be another win. 

“Negan?”

Stopping mid-monologue, he turned to Arat and frowned. “What is it Arat? Can't you see I'm in the middle of a god damn conversation? It is rude to interrupt someone when they're in the middle of a conversation you know that.”

The other woman pressed her lips into a thin line and Negan smiled. Getting under people's skin really tickled his balls. He knew though how seriously Arat took things so he knew that it must be important. 

“I'm just busting your great big lady nuts you know that.  C'mon – what’s fucking wrong this time?”

Instead of replying, she holds out her hand and offers Negan her radio. He just blinks at it for a few long moments. Surely she was joking. No one would be stupid enough to try to get him on the radio,  not today of all days when he specifically stated that no one was to bother him. 

“You're fucking kidding.”

She shakes her head. “I told him. But he insisted.”

Sitting forwards in the chair, Negan’s face darkened. No one commanded his time. No one. “What is so motherfucking important hmm?”

“He didn't say.” He noticed for once she looked nervous.  Rightly so, he was growing more angry by the second. How was he supposed to make Rick the prick and company follow his rules while his own people were too fucking stupid to.

He got to his feet, missing the weight of Lucile in his hand though it was more important that Rick had her right now. He needed to show Alexandria that the rules mattered no matter how high up on the food chain you were.  

Allowing his voice to rise and his anger to seep through, Negan took a step towards the woman. “C'mon Arat. You bring this to me – you say he insisted but you don’t even fucking know what the fuck is wrong? You know better than to pull this shit. I am entertaining my guest here while she is otherwise detained – I don’t have time to wipe some asshole’s asshole today. Now tell whoever the fuck it is I'm busy and don't fucking bug me again. Do we understand one another?” 

To her merit, she didn’t flinch once.  It reminded Negan why he trusted her with his life, why she was a total badass. She knew the score.  

“He said it was your personal business. That you would want to know right away.”

The word personal piqued his interest.  Negan didn’t have a personal life.  If he had he would have been ruined by now, secrets get you fucking dead. Even the amount of times he got his dick wet in a day was common knowledge. He was an open fucking book. 

Glaring at the offending radio, Negan weighs up his options. He can always kill the guy if it's a waste of his time. He takes it from her hand and gestures to the saviours around him.

“This had better be fucking good. Watch her, anything happens you fucking shut that shit down and get me pronto. No one gets hurt you got that?”

“Got it.”

With long strides, Negan walks back to the truck, hoisting himself into the empty cab before finally answering the call. “Who the fuck is this?”

The reply is instant. “Travis sir.”

No screaming, crying, nothing blowing up in the background – safe to say Negan was disappointed. Clearly it could wait. But not before he gave this Travis a chewing out, he would punish him properly later.

“Well Travis, let me let you in on a secret. And by secret I mean something you were all told in fucking triplicate. Today is one motherfucking busy day and you were specifically told not to do the one thing that you fucking took it upon yourself to do. So it had better be fucking worth it Travis you know how much of a stickler Lucile is for the rules.”

“It is sir – Negan – it’s just – we were – “

The man on the other end of the radio splutters pathetically and it makes Negan want to hurt him. He would roll his eyes but he's very much aware of the amount of people outside who could be watching. He settles on scanning the view in front of him and watches Rick disappear into yet another house. The sorry shit really didn’t know where his guns were.

“- Don’t care. Out with it Travis.”

“We found a girl.”

He was amazed by this guy’s stupidity. Why would he think Negan cared for one second about that? Negan the man with five fucking beautiful wives who at this very second were waiting for him to come home.  

“Good for you Travis. Still do not care. Is that really what you interrupted my day for? Cause I gotta tell you, that ain't gonna cut it I’m afraid.”

“No sir. It's more than that.”

Negan resisted the urge to thump his skull against the steering wheel.  He was so done with this asshole. “One last chance. What is it?”

“We think she's your daughter.”

For a moment, Negan had the surreal feeling that he was in a god damn dream. He didn't do family, he didn't have anything to lose anymore. That was the real secret to his success – all or nothing. He could put every last itty bitty fucking thing he had in because he had fuck all to hold him back.  No baggage. The very idea that he had a weakness like that knocked back in time to the shitty old world. He might have had a daughter, maybe two. He might have had a wife who loved him as well, but not anymore. 

“Negan?”

The voice on the radio brought him back to reality.  A quick look told him that Rick still hadn't produced the fucking goods. He rubs his eyes with the cool leather off his glove and thinks.  It's such an out of the fucking ball park suggestion it's either true or a motherfucking trap.  The chances of it being true were slim to none, yet not impossible. Damnit.

“What the fuck makes you think she's my daughter?”

The fear and doubt in Travis’ voice was clear even over the crackle of the radio static. Good. He should be fucking afraid. Very a-fucking-fraid. “Well, when I gave her the rundown about who she belonged to she heard your name and started begging to see you. She wouldn’t say why.”

“That's it?” She could be fucking anyone.  Definitely sounded like a trap.

“No sir. She uh. She had a picture in her bag. You're in it. With a woman and two girls.”

There's only one place anyone would find a fucking picture like that. He never went back to the house after Lucile died.  Maybe it was one of the more dickish things he'd done but he wanted to keep moving forward.  As a man who had recently lost every last fucking thing he knew that holding onto the past would only get him fucking dead.  He was right to not look back. He was. 

Maybe it wasn't a god damn trap. Maybe – maybe – one of his girls finally found their way home. He could almost feel the cracks forming, threatening everything he had worked so fucking hard to build, before he got a fucking grip. He shouldn't be so sentimental - they're dead. He didn't know how else anyone could have found a picture like that, but it had to be a trap. They were all dead.

“Anything else?”

“I asked her  what her name was,  only I couldn’t tell much from that so I asked her what her mother was called.”

Negan held his breath, caught between hope and scolding himself for entertaining this sad fucking excuse for a joke. He tried to sound as disinterested as possible. “And?”

“Lucile. She said her name was Lucile.”

Negan didn't put much – any – god damn faith in that answer. It wasn’t rocket science to figure out that his wife was named Lucile. Hell, he named his fucking bat after her. 

“Now I know you didn't wanna be bothered but I just thought – if it was my girl, I'd wanna know.”

Out of everything it was the photo that fucked with his head the most.  Someone would have had to know where he had lived all those god damn fucking years ago.  No one who was still alive knew that.  But then maybe Travis was in on the shitty game.  Maybe Simon had told him about the two girls and the whole thing was a fucking lie. Fucker – that was private. He trusted Simon with his life.  He wouldn't fucking dare.  

He was going to have to fucking find out one way or another. “Travis shut the fuck up. Where is she now?”

“In the back of the truck.”

“Give her the radio.”

For just a moment,  he let himself wonder.  He tried not to think about how they only found one girl not two. He tried not to think about which one it could be - Would it be his headstrong Cassie? She was older, 26 now – fuck he was getting old. It would make sense that she survived: she was tough, fucking fast, she could have made it. Or maybe -

“Hello?”

It was fucking stupid of him to think he would recognise her voice.  It had been 7 years and he had spent too long trying to forget. But maybe it wasn't them at all. 

“Who's this?”

“Grace.”

“Grace?” Grace – his little girl. The one with her head in the clouds and her mothers eyes. She was still alive? 

“Grace-lynn.”

He had to take fucking control of the situation. He had to. Clearing his throat he did his best to distance himself from things. He was fucking Negan after all. Either today just got better or a whole bunch of assholes were going to die, either way he was going to stay on top. He had to.

“Gracie I'm going to ask you a couple of questions and you're gonna answer them honestly okay? I'll know if you’re lying.” The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. He was getting his fucking hopes up.

“Okay.” She sounded scared. Fuck. He pulled himself the fuck together and pushed on.

“Where were you when everything turned to shit?”

“Down south. Nashville. We were on a school trip.” 

Ice burned through his veins. He hadn’t wanted them to go. Lucile convinced him in the end, she wanted them to have god damn adventures. She wanted to hear all about it before she died. Look how well that fucking turned out. Shit. Everything turned to shit.

 “We?” He wanted to catch the fuckers out, shifting his voice to sound like they had said the wrong thing. For the first time in a long time, Negan felt scared. He fucking hated it. The past needed to stay where it was. It was easier that way.

“Me and my sister.” My sister and I, he thought. Cassandra fucking hated it when he corrected her grammar, Grace used to find it funny. He wondered if she said it on purpose, but she was barely years old, Cass probably didn't have the chance to teach her. He supposed didn’t really fucking matter anymore anyway.

“What was the very last thing I said to you?” This was it. This was fucking it. If she couldn’t answer it then their shitty god damn fucking joke was over and he could make them pay for chasing him with fucking ghosts. No one else knew. Just his Gracie.

“You? Uh – the last thing?” She was stalling. Fuck. He was right. 

“The very last thing.” Negan told himself it was a good thing they were all dead. It was. Fuck.

“I don't- “ She didn’t know. It was over.

Just as Negan was about to launch on what might later  know as the most brutal fucking verbal assault in the fucking history of the universe, she spoke again.

“We were on the bus. And you got through on the phone somehow. You told us to get out of the city.  That it was happening at home too so not to come back. But then a geek almost got Cass and I dropped the phone.  When I got back to it you weren’t there. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”

He remembered the screams, he couldn’t tell who the voices belonged to, not until Grace screamed Cassandra’s name. He had never felt so helpless, all he could do was call for them both and tell them how much he loved them over and over. The line went dead and he though he had lost them both. Lucile died the next day.

Her voice cracks as she speaks and it makes his own chest tighten. How impossible were the odds that she would make it this way, after all this time? How long had she been so close to him without him knowing? His fucking kid was alive. And she had found him.

“Gracie. It's okay. It's gonna be alright now.”

Clearing his throat because he was fucked if he was gonna cry in a damn cab surrounded by people who wanted him dead, he took back control of his mind and figured out what the fuck was going to happen next. This was what he knew. He was fucking good at it.

He fucking hated the position it had put him in.  Some sorry shit had something over him, something they could fucking use against him if they had half a mind to do it. On the plus side, this Travis person – if that was even his name – was terrified, but he didn’t know anything about the other men. He had to hope that was enough. 

“Still with me?”

“Yeah.” She was strong. She had to be. Not much longer and he would be able to keep her safe. Something he should have fucking done from the beginning.

“In a minute I want you to hand the radio back and those men are gonna take you home okay? It’s a big ol’ factory you wont miss it. They take you anywhere else you threaten them okay? You tell them that I wont stop until they're all fucking dead. Got that?

“Gonna hand you over to someone called Simon.  He has one hell of a moustache - he'll keep you safe okay? Stay with him, do what he says and I'll come get you as soon as I can.”

That was his best plan. It was shitty. Too many god damn holes, too many things that could fucking go wrong. But he had to have faith in his reputation and the world he had built from fucking scratch.  He was Negan for fucks sake.

“Wait.” Shit. What now?

“What is it?”

“I wanna - can I ask you a question?” Negan sighed in relief. It was hard not being able to see what was going on on the other end. He hated not being in control.

“Alright. Shoot.”

“When's my birthday?”

His kid was smart. So fucking smart. Fucking brave too. Negan was so fucking proud in that moment. He hadn't given her any reason to trust his word yet and instead of blindly following along there she was standing up for herself even when she was outnumbered. She wanted him to prove who he was. She didn't want to walk into some trap either.

“August 15th. You turned 21 last week.”

He wondered if she even fucking knew how old she was. If she really was on her own, she probably had no fucking clue what the date was. It pulled at something inside of him. He was finally going to give her every-fucking-thing she deserved. 

“Okay.” The word hung in the air and all Negan could think of were all the fucking things he had to tell her. He didn't want to do it over the damn radio though and he was well aware of how long he had been inside the truck. He needed to show his face out there again. Time to move things the fuck along.

“We'll have time to talk later. Hand back the radio now for me.”

It only took a moment for the man to reply. He hoped he hadn’t heard everything. “This is Travis.”

“Travis you might just be my new best friend.” Use the carrot, then the stick. It had worked a million fucking times before. 

“So it is her?” He didn't like the other man's tone one fucking bit. He had to be careful. 

“Is she hurt?” He decided not to answer his question. Negan didn’t answer to any fucker no sir-ee. She was safer that way anyway. 

“She was limping a little, and she needs food and water.”

Negan ran his hand over his beard. He really did need a fucking shave. Carson would be able to fix her up so long as she actually got there.  

“Give her what you have for now. Take good care of her Travis. I don’t think I need to tell you just how important your day just got now do I?”

“No sir.” Now for the fucking stick.

“and I don't think I need to point out the consequences should you or any of your boys fuck it up do I?”

“No sir.”

“Good. Now, you're gonna drive her back to the sanctuary and hand her over to Simon.  In person and only to Simon do you understand me?”

No room for questions, orders not requests. He'd spell out every last fucking word if he had to, he was Negan and he was in control

“Take her to Simon. Got it.” 

“You do it, do it right and I'll make sure you get something good for your troubles alright?” Once it was all over he would have to reward them. Rewards for loyalty keep them loyal. This was the biggest fucking test of that he could possibly think of. He hoped he'd done enough.

“Thank you Negan.”

“Don't you dare let me down.” 

When Travis signed off Negan took a deep fucking breath and forced his body to relax. He had shit to do and it wasn’t going to do its-fucking-self. He wasn't going to make it back until tonight. He needed to make sure Simon was ready for shit to go down.

Flicking the radio to channel 1 he called out. “Simon, you there?”

It only took a short moment for him to get a reply.  “Boss?”

“I need you to clear your schedule. I got a job for you.”

“Run go okay?” He could always depend on Simon.  He was always on the lookout for the next fuck up so he could fix it before it turned into a total clusterfuck. He was smart.

“Don’t fucking worry about that. One of the outpost boys – Travis? He's bringing someone to you. I need you to look after her till I get back.”

“Sure. Who is it?” Simon never asked stupid questions, never whined like a little bitch. He got his head down and got the fuck on with it. 

“My girl Gracie.”

“You sure?” Negan huffed a laugh, the fucking coot was as paranoid as he was. It served them both well.

“About as sure as I fucking can be over a damn radio which is why I'm telling you so you can get ready. If it's a trap then shut it down and throw the sorry shits in the cells – kill ‘em if you have to. But if it isn’t I need you to keep her safe ‘til I get back.”

“Okay boss.” 

“He's on channel 7.”

“Got it.” Simple, easy, done. Why was it so hard for every fucker else?

In the silence that surrounded him, he ran through everything that had just happened.  Was he fucking missing something? Was this even fucking real? His girl was alive for fucks sake. That meant something. Things were going to have to change a little to make room, to keep her safe. 

When he couldn't think of anything else he could do, Negan psyched himself up for another dramatic entrance. He needed to speed things along and if Rick still hadn't found the fucking guns he was just going to have to kill someone. He now had somewhere he'd rather be so the sooner this shit was dealt with the better. 

Swinging the door open he planted his feet firmly on the asphalt and smiled widely. Things were only looking up. 

“Tick tock Rick.  Times running out!”


	3. Simon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part isnt exactly complete but i decided to split it into two because its shaping up to be well over twice the length of the previous parts. - plus it means that its updated much sooner.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Edit: Simon's chapter is no longer a two parter next chapter is the good doctor Carson's.

By the time the busted up old pickup rolled down the road towards the sanctuary gates Simon was ready.

He had swapped out the guards on duty for Negan's best shooters - most loyal ones too in case any of the other guards were in on whatever might be at play, the prisoners were back in their cells in case they took the chance to riot, Carson was prepped and ready behind closed doors for whatever might be thrown at him, he had doubled the guards on the wives and had a scout team keeping tabs on the truck so they could attack from behind if it all turned to shit. He hoped that he didn't need any of it.

He knew Travis. They had gone on runs together in the past and while he wasn't the most resourceful man Simon had ever met, he generally knew the score. Simon knew better than to underestimate people enough to take the risk, but he would be surprised if it really was foul play. 

Just that morning in fact, he had spoken to the younger man about picking up the slack. He seemed pretty determined that he and his boys would work harder. Happening to find Negan's daughter the same day was a mighty coincidence to the point of suspicion, but picking up strays wasn't exactly rare. If anyone was going to stumble across the boss's daughter,  he was glad it was him. 

“Showtime people. Look alive.” Simon called to the saviours around him as the truck started passing by the wall of rotters. On his signal, the internal gates were pulled open and the truck came to a halt a few feet in front of him.

The men in the truck bed hopped onto the ground and started unloading a small amount of supplies, making themselves busy. Before he could get a good look in the back seat to see their supposed newcomer,  Travis stepped onto the asphalt and made a beeline towards him. 

“Hey Simon.”

Slapping a wide smile on his face Simon stepped forward to greet him. “Travis. Big day huh? Everything go okay I hope?”

“Uh yeah. Yeah she’s in the cab still.” He looked nervous, which wasn't unnatural but it still put the older man on edge. He hadn't ruled out foul play just yet. 

He tried to take a glance over the other man's shoulder but the men busying themselves around the truck obscured the view. “She coming out?”

Travis glanced back over his shoulder too, scoffing lightly, he muttered under his breath. “Maybe with a crowbar.” 

Simon raised his eyebrows at that, blinking at the other man's sarcasm. Maybe he could rule out a trap after all. As if suddenly realising what he had said, Travis sheepishly scratched the scruff of his neck and made some attempt to explain. “Uh. I wanted to have a word before trying to get her out. That okay?”

“Sure.”

Slipping his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, Travis rocked on his heels. It made Simon a little nervous that he was stalling for time but he gave the other man the benefit of the doubt. “Negan wanted me to give her what food and water we had. She took a drink but she wouldn’t take Alderman’s shitty fruit bar. It’s just to let you know really – we tried. She'll still need something.”

Simon nodded, slapping him on the shoulder. He was just nervous. That he could deal with. Negan had that affect on people and he was no stranger to seeing his influence not  to mention he was well versed in inflicting it first hand himself.  “That’s alright. You did good T. You and your boys should be proud of yourselves.”

Relief washing over his features, Travis nodded. “Thanks boss. Another thing – I don’t know what it is, but something’s wrong with her. She’s been through some shit or somethin’.”

Furrowing his brow, Simon didn’t really get why he would bother to mention that. At this point, everyone had been through something. Hell, he had even inflicted some of those something on someone – more than once. He supposed Travis was simply paranoid with it being Negan’s daughter. “We all have Travis, she’s no exception.”

Travis nodded. “Yeah I guess. Just didn't seem – I dunno.  Figured I should mention it.”

Raising his voice so the other men could hear him, Simon clapped his hands together. “Negan will make sure you all get something for your loyalty when he gets back alright? But now I want to meet the lady of the hour.”

Simon watched as Travis pulled the truck door open, ducking his head inside. “Hey, you can come out now.”

Through the tint of the windows, Simon could see her wide doe eyes, flicking back and forth. He got Travis’ comment about the crowbar now, the kid was scared stiff. Huffing a sigh, he supposed he ought to take over. If she really was the boss's daughter then this needed to be done right.

Nudging Travis outta the way, Simon peered in through the door. The stench hit his senses first. She was filthy. Her hair was matted and her face and clothes were caked in layers of rotten blood, mud and god knows what else. Her whole body trembled as she tried her damndest to keep her eyes trained on the back of the seat in front of her. 

“No one’s gonna bite you darlin’.” Simon frowned as the girl flinched at his words. This was going to be harder than he thought. 

Leaning back, Simon shared a glance with Travis who was leaning back against the side of the truck, shaking his head flippantly. “What’d I tell ya?”

Simon frowned at the other man, getting annoyed with his shitty attitude. Travis seemed to take the hint and shut up. Pressing his lips together, he tried again. He was a little taken aback with how skittish she was given how she was being reunited with her old man, but then again he knew how being out there on your own for any great length of time messed with people's heads.  “I’m Simon. It’s nice to meet ya.”

A hint of recognition  crossed her face and her eyes flicked over his features, only for half a second but it was enough to tell him that the boss had told her his name. It was maybe the reminder she needed that he wasn’t the enemy. 

“She doesn't talk much.”

Brushing Travis off, Simon directed his attention to the girl in the cab. “That’s just fine. I really hate small talk anyways. Now, get yourself up outta this truck and we can get you settled in.”

The saviours found waifs and strays all the time and if he had learned anything from having to deal with them, it was that they responded better to orders than requests.  Sure enough, the girl came to life and started sliding across the seats. 

“Attagirl.”

“Simon.” Diverting his attention, one of the men from the scavenge team called out. Walking across to him he handed Simon the paper in his hand. It was a photograph.  In pretty good condition given the state of the young woman be his side.  A little bent in a few places maybe. He realised that this must be the so called evidence that Travis had mentioned on the radio. Staring back at him from the page was a familiar sight. “Well that’s Negan alright.” 

A younger, softer version of the man sat cross-legged on the green grass. The woman next to him which Simon could only presume to be Lucile was laughing at something. Negan had only mentioned his kids once in the entire time Simon had known the man but their resemblance to them both was striking. The older of the two had long dark hair and a mischievous glint in her eye as she laughed along with her mother. The younger was draped over Negan's back, wearing a pretty flowery dress. She looked more like Lucile though she had the man's dimpled smile.

He flicked his eyes between the picture and the grimy face standing nervously in front of him. It was impossible to tell if it really was her though he couldn't rule it out either. He supposed he would just have to trust Negan's word. 

“She had these on her. No ammo, just a couple of butter knifes.”

Taking them from Tony, Simon nods to himself. He watches the way the girl's eyes fixate on them anxiously. He supposed she must feel at a loss without them, especially  seeing as they've been the only thing stopping her from becoming chow for god knows how long. It made him wonder if a gesture of good faith was in order.  It might make her calm the fuck down – at least a little. 

Holding one of them on front of her, Simon choose his words carefully. “You understand that this is your dad's place right? He's the leader of this fine establishment, everything and everyone in it is his.”

He paused and waited until the silence had stretched on for an awkward amount of time. He was starting to think the kid had issues understanding him when she finally nodded, eyes flicking up to his briefly.

“So if I give you this back, you understand that you have to respect this place. No funny business. If you have a problem you tell me first - It's a last resort kind of deal only. Get it?”

He waited again expectantly this time for at least another nod now that he knew she could understand him. He got it. People who were out there too long just weren't used to talking.  She'd be okay.

He wasn't expecting her to actually reply, her words short, irritable and full of fear. “I get it.”

Blinking in mock disbelief, Simon smiled. “Well alright then.”

He handed the blade over to her and she eagerly took it from his hand. He noticed how careful and gentle she was, as though he was the one easily startled. 

“Thank you.” Simon nodded at her timid thanks, watching her tuck it into her belt with practiced ease. Her fingers lingered on the handle confirming his suspicions but thankfully, it seemed to comfort her.

“My bag – “ The girl blurted out of turn and when Simon followed her line of sight he saw Tony carrying an old duffel bag as dirty and ripped as she was.  

Simon called out to the man. “Antonio. I want you to take her stuff straight to Negan’s room.”

“Got it.”

It was an easy fix though the kid still looked as though he was about to kick her dog. “We’ll be headed up there in a bit kiddo so it’ll be nice and safe alright?”

Swallowing thickly, the girl nodded again. He supposed that was as good as he was going to get. Clapping his hands together Simon grinned. “Alrighty then. Let's go.”

Crossing over the loading bay and through the threshold of one of the large truck ports, Simon gestured to the hubbub of people working at their stations on the factory floor. “This is –“

He stopped in his tracks when he realised that he was no longer being followed. Looking over his shoulder with a thoughtful frown, he saw that the girl had stopped a few feet from the opening. Her eyes were wide and fearful, one hand still on the handle of her knife and the other gripping the hem of the God awful jumper she had on her back for dear life. 

Sighing, he calmly sauntered back over to her. “You okay kid? Y'know, I can't give you the grand tour if you don't step foot inside. I promise you get used to the smell.”

For a split second, her eyes met his before looking past him to the factory floor.  She seemed to be having an internal debate of some sort.  Hoping he could help her somehow he decided to ask. “What is it?”

At first she struggled to reply but Simon was patient and gave her time. She could talk that much he was sure of but something about the way she hesitated made him think there was more to it. She was still terrified clearly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It's loud.” 

Simon grunted in response, running his hand over his moustache as he thought about it. He could call the shop floor a lot of things but he had never considered it to be loud.  In fact, they insisted the noise be kept to a minimum so not to draw too much attention. Given the amount of people living in the sanctuary, calling in a herd was a very real possibility.

Putting himself in her shoes, he supposed that even one person talking was more noise than she was used to so the sound of so many people would be deafening. She was just going to have to suck it up though, it wasn't about to change anytime soon.  But he didn't have to make things difficult for her, especially given that she was Negan's. The tough love could wait for now. 

He decided some gentle coaxing was in order, like tempting in a stray with some food – literally in fact. Laying out all his cards on the table, Simon persisted. “Listen, I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do. I know you don’t know me but your dad asked me to look after you until he gets back. That means that I'm gonna stick by your side and make sure you get what you need. Keep you safe and shit. It also means that if you have a problem - even if anyone looks at you the wrong way, you can tell me and I'll deal with it. Now we can sit out here and I'll bore your ass off all night or we can go inside and eat. Either way you're gonna be alright. I wont let anything bad happen to you.  You struck gold coming here Grace, not a moment too soon by the look of ya.”

The girls eyebrows furrowed together as he said her name, her lips pressing together in a thin line. He wasn't sure how convinced she was about him, maybe she had simply realised there was no way to back out. It could even be that she had finally managed to pull herself together. Whatever the reason, the girl squared her shoulders and started walking.

Watching her limp towards him, Simon nodded and fell into step with her. “Good choice.”

Simon took his time. If he was honest, the longer it took to get Negan's kid settled in now, the less time they would have to sit around twiddling their thumbs later. He wasn't kidding when he had said he hated small talk and he knew Negan wouldn't be getting back anytime soon. He didn't exactly relish the thought of babysitting until then but it definitely wasn't the worst thing Negan had ever asked him to do.

“The plan of action, so that you're aware, is to get you some food and some clean clothes and shit. Then take you someplace you can get cleaned up. Then our doc Carson is gonna take a look at you make sure you're alright.”

“I’m fine.” Her response came a little too quickly and was a little too tense. He glanced over to see her wide eyed, looking around at all the different stations and the people mulling about, completely oblivious to her walking by. 

Simon wasn't convinced in the slightest. She had a limp for starters and he was sure she would have some other cuts and scrapes under all the grime. That was before her obvious starvation, dehydration, the vaccinations Carson could give her and whatever mental shit she had going on. He nodded anyway. “Sure. First things first though.”

He led her over to one of the food stalls,  rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Got any allergies?

At the shake of her head, Simon reached over for a loaf of bread. He nodded to the guy behind the table. “Put it on Negan's tab my friend.”

Peering around the table to see what other goodies he could gather up for her, he snagged himself an apple.  The food was his favourite thing about this place. “Like pickles?”

At her silence he glanced over to see her brows furrowed again like he was the crazy one. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't exactly a trick question. “There's a guy here who makes em in house. Bet you love peanut butter though don't ya?”

Simon smirks as her eyes hone in on the jar. “Yeah you do. Negan loves that shit too. Oh and the ice cream. There’s a woman here who can make cardamom gelato, I shit you not. We'll get you some of that shit another time.”

Looking over to his guest, arms full with bread peanut butter and water, he found it hard to read her. One moment she looked to be on the brink of a breakdown and the next she seemed to have her shit together. He supposed she was tougher than she looked to still be alive after all this time. Hell maybe Travis was making a fair point saying she had been through some shit. Or maybe he was just being stupid. She probably didn't even know what cardamom gelato was for fuck’s sake. Simon sighed and shifted his grip on the items before moving onto the next station. He had never been good with kids. “C'mon Grace.”

Heading over to the racks of spare clothes, Simon spotted a familiar face. “Janet. Just the woman I want to see.”

An easy smile swept over his features. Simon was always glad for an excuse to see Janet. To say he had a soft spot for her was an understatement but he enjoyed whatever it was that was building between them and was content to let it play out at its own pace. Negan had called him a pussy for it but Simon couldn't bring himself to give a shit. 

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges. He fucking loved that smile. “Simon. What can I do you for?”

He could think of more than a few reasons for her to do him. With a knowing smirk playing at his lips he got back to the task at hand. “I need you to fix my friend here up with some new digs.”

Janet looked over to the girl who was holding herself rather awkwardly, eyes cast down to the floor again. If he was honest, he felt a little out of his depth with her. Normally he wouldn't give a shit about the ones the scavengers brought back and wound send the strays into the thick of it to figure out their new life on their own but he couldn't do that this time. 

Looking at her carefully, concern etching into her features, Janet nodded. “Sure.  What's her number?”

Stupid points system.  He had helped to establish it in the first place but sometimes it just got in the way.  “No – put it under Negan for me honey.”

Simon watched her inevitable reaction to the name. It happened every damn time without fail. Her eyes widened a little and she straightened herself up, as though the man could somehow see her. “Negan? Of course. What dress size?”

Realising what conclusion she must have come to, Simon rushed to correct her. The last thing he needed was to scare his kid even more. She could find out about that shit from someone else. “No. No – no dresses. Just y'know – clothes.”

“Oh. I'm sorry I thought- “

With a shake of his head he schooled his expression to hopefully tell her to drop it. “That's alright.”

She must have taken the hint because she shakes herself a little and turns back to the girl kindly. “You wanna come pick something sweetie?”

When the kid didn't respond Simon looked over to Grace to see her once again on the brink of some kinda breakdown.  He fought the urge to roll his eyes mostly out of respect for Negan but he really was finding her difficult. After an awkward moment or two waiting for a response he simply shook his head at Janet and she disappeared behind a rack to rummage for some clothes.

Thankfully she didn't leave them to their awkward silence for long. Margaret returned with a modest pile of jeans and shirts topped with a pair of boots to replace the craptastic things on the kid's feet. “These should fit you. They okay?”

Grace’s wide eyes fixated on the bundle held out for her to take. Seeing the way she looked as though the boots were about to jump out and bite her face off, Simon couldn't help but roll his eyes. He took it upon himself to respond for her. “They're great. Thanks Margaret.”

As he stepped forward to take the bundle from her himself, he got caught up in Margaret’s reproachful look. She must have caught him damnit. 

He shot her a look that clearly says ‘can you blame me?’ earning him another glare that said something more along the lines of ‘give the girl a damn break.’ With a roll of his eyes Simon nodded, conceding to the woman. He spared a glance over to the kid beside him to realise their whole silent conversation had gone blissfully unnoticed.

Realising how much of a pain in the ass it was going to be to carry the bundle of clothing along with the groceries in his arms, Simon looked for something he could put it all in. “You got a bag?”

With an amused smile Janet disappeared for another moment and returned with a woven wicker basket. Simon gratefully unloaded his arms and took the basket from her letting his fingers brush against hers softly. He didn't miss the way she warmed to him. “Thank you honey.”

Janet shook her head in good humour before motioning him to go get on with his job. He made a mental note to return the basket later, another good excuse to see her again. With a smirk Simon repositioned his grip on the basket, turning his attention back to the girl who was yet again glancing around the shop floor, carefully watching people come and go.

When he began to speak to her the kid flinched again but Simon kept at it. He figured it was high time he got her away from the crowds. Maybe she would calm the fuck down then.

“Okeydokey. I think we got every thing for now. Let's get you someplace you can get cleaned up.”


	4. Carson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the super long wait. Among personal stuff going on, this chapter was a pain to write. Turns out doc Carson isn't easy to write for at all. 
> 
> I want to thank you to everyone who has commented and given love for this fic It means so much. 
> 
> One chapter left after this! Hope you enjoy.

 

Carson tightened his grip on the handle of his doctor's bag as he navigated his way through the corridors and stairwells. Anxiety pricked through his skin as he maintained his outward composure, he was used to the sensation but that didn't make it any easier.

Being the only doctor in the entire sanctuary had it's perks but Carson had never really allowed himself to feel comfortable here. He had learned the hard way that there was plenty of things a person could live through so just because he was valuable here, he knew he was by no means invincible. If nothing else he knew that Negan wasn't above hurting his little brother in order to get him to comply - something he would avoid at all costs – so he was particularly careful to follow the rules.

With Negan departing before dawn, Carson had been looking forward to a small reprieve from the tension he was accustomed to while the man was inside the sanctuary walls. That was until Simon had him prepare for ‘anything’ – whatever that meant. Carson had reasoned that it probably wasn't anything good so did his best to be ready for every kind emergency he could think of. Waiting in his clinic for the ‘anything’ to arrive, it was only in the trickle down of chatter from his regular patients that he had found out that the so called emergency had been called off.

It had annoyed him - not that he was going to do anything about it but Carson had thought that it wouldn't have been hard for Simon to let him know things were okay. He had taken it with a weary sigh and had chalked it up to Simon having something more important to do. He usually did.

So when a particularly serious looking savior came to his door and told him to report to Negan's room right away, Carson became rather perplexed. He had grabbed his bag and hurried out of the door without a backwards glance.

Which was how the man had found himself standing outside the steel door in question. He hesitated in the empty corridor for a moment, suddenly feeling much more uneasy about his current task. Carson wondered why on earth he would have been sent to Negan's room when the man himself was out for the remainder of the day at least. It crossed his mind – not for the first time since arriving at the sanctuary – that it might indeed be some kind of trick.

He knew he had to do it anyway. If it wasn't a trick, it must be important and he didn't even want to attempt to think about the consequences if he turned away. Biting down his fear, he knocked on the door.

Heavy footsteps soon approached the door and it swung open to reveal Simon. His wide smile put something inside Carson at ease, at least there was no direct emergency.

He clapped his hand against the doctor's shoulder. “Carson. Good to see you.”

Warmth flushed though his skin at the contact. Avoiding the man's gaze, Carson took a breath and tried to be as professional as possible. “Simon. Was told you wanted to see me? Wasn't sure I had the right place. Negan being gone all.”

He hoped it wouldn't come across as being too intrusive but the other man simply chuckled. “Don't you worry doc you're in the right place. I need you to give someone a check up.”

Carson pinched his brows slightly in confusion, his interest piqued. An unhealthy churning began in his stomach, he knew Simon was a respected and trusted member of the sanctuary, but the doctor had been played for free care before and Negan had been very clear on his opinion of that. “A check up? My clinic is better for that, I have everyone's files and-“

Simon cuts him off with a roll of his eyes. “She's new so there wont be a file. It doesn't have to be a full formal thing, just something quick and dirty - you get me?”

His stomach lurched. He couldn't let it happen again. Forcing himself to speak out of turn against his superior “This is most unusual. Does Negan-“

His expression darkening, Simon pulled Carson into the space between them and lowered his voice. “Do you think I'd be doing it if Negan wasn't okay with it?”

Carson stammered, fear spiking though his bones. “No – No. Of course not.”

As though a switch had been flicked, Simon straightened up looking positively dashing once more. Carson had never figured out how he could go from one extreme to the other so easily. Thankfully he wasn't often on the receiving end of his bad side.

Pulling Carson along and gesturing to the room, Simon invited him inside. “Well then. Day's a-wastin’.”

His eyes scanning around the lavish room, he found his newest patient sitting awkwardly in one of the wooden chairs sitting around Negan's desk.

Her damp hair was cropped short, only an inch or two long, uneven in places. Dressed in soft jeans and a long sleeved shirt he noted how small she seemed, having nothing to do with her height rather her demeanour. Her expression was what struck him most of all. He could tell that she had been outside for quite some time and she was scared. He could also tell that she was also very angry.

It was a look he had encountered all too often in his clinic. It wasn't a direct kind of anger, more an understated way of being that seemed to occur in the people who lived outside for too long. The analyst in him wished he could conduct a proper study on the particular psychological effects but he knew it would be of little consequence in the new world. It tended to fade after being assimilated into the structure of Negan's rule but he also knew that it was dangerous. He needed to be careful.

Clearing his throat lightly, Carson took a seat in the chair turning it slightly to face her. He did his best to smile regardless of the fact she wasn't looking directly at him. He had never been particularly praised for his bedside manner but he thought the circumstances called for him to make more of an effort. She must be special for some reason. “Hello. My name is Doctor Carson.”

When she didn't reply, Carson pursed his lips together. It appeared that they were going to skip the pleasantries today which was more than fine with him. Pulling a glove onto his right hand he set about his basic routine. “I’d like to start with some basic examinations.”

Noting a rather fresh looking scar running down the right side of her face, Carson reached out to take her chin between his fingertips to turn her towards a better angle. That was until the girl, as though suddenly seeing him for the first time, flinched and reeled backwards in her chair.

Her eyes were wide but her voice was steady, almost calculated. “No.”

Carson frowned, he couldn't understand what it was she was refusing. He hadn't even started yet. Trying to keep his voice as calm as possible he tried to reassure her. “No? I assure you -“

She whipped her head to face Simon with a desperate glint in her eyes. Her voice was much quieter and full of fear. “No.”

Carson's initial thought was that perhaps the girl couldn't speak English. It would explain the one word answers for a start. He wondered if she could speak Spanish. He was far from fluent but he could probably get by.

Simon pushes off from the arm of the chair he was leaning against, interrupting his thoughts. “The lady said no doc. Do what you can without touching her.”

Aware of the other man now hovering almost protectively over his shoulder, Carson swallowed thickly. He thought better of the situation and realised that the girl must simply be afraid of him. The scar itself was indicative of past trauma. He was out of practice when it came to compassion, it was in short supply here and often he was too busy and too detached to link such things together. Had he really lost sight of that? What did that say about him – about the world?

Spluttering, Carson tried to adjust to the new information. “I- alright. I have a questionnaire that all my new patients fill in. Just talking. Would that be acceptable?”

He was patient, waiting for the girl to calm down slightly. He wondered what they all must look like to her. He wondered as well why it was that this girl was being treated differently from the other strays. Carson supposed he probably wouldn't find out, no one really told him anything unless it was vital he had to know. She scrunched up her eyes for a brief second before nodding in agreement.

Pulling the latex from his hand, Carson reached into his bag for the pen and paper. He cleared his throat lightly. “Name?”

It took a moment for her to answer. “Grace.”

As he started to write her name he remembered something. “We have a Grace here already I'm afraid. Could I have your full name please? It will allow me to differentiate your file later.”

She looks over his shoulder to where he presumes Simon must be, almost deferring the question to him. Whatever response she gets isn't verbal either but it does the job. “Grace-Lynn Ann Negan.”

“Negan?” He wasn't able to help himself from blurting out, the pieces clicking into place. It couldn't be a coincidence, she had to be some relation to the man himself. A daughter or niece perhaps.

Simon interrupts his thought yet again, the warning clear from his tone. “Do your job doc."

Blinking, Carson nodded and brought himself back under control. As he scrawled the rest of the name, her quiet voice made him look up from the paper. “Grace-Lynn is hyphenated.”

He smiled warmly, quickly making the correction before getting back too business. “Thank you. Age?”

“Twenty one.” The girl seemed confident despite being outside with presumably no way of knowing the date. Perhaps someone had told her.

He works his way down the list mostly to himself, though he’s careful to speak out loud in an effort to reassure her. “We can do height and weight later I suppose. Observations show the patient is underweight and malnourished.”

“Any injuries?” He glances up from the paper expectantly, checking himself for any visible signs. As well as the scar on her face, he spots another running from her neck, a red line but it is mostly obscured by the layers of clothes. He didn't suppose she would let him take a look.

Grace shakes her head, making Carson frown slightly. The chances of her not having so much as a scrape seemed impossible but he wasn’t sure how to question her without upsetting her again. He was keenly aware of Simon behind him which - while not entirely unpleasant, still put him on edge. He didn’t want to mess this up.

“Your leg?” Simon speaks out, the scepticism clear in his voice thankfully raising Carson suspicions before he had to. Grace looks behind the doctor to the saviour briefly before casting her eyes back down again deep in thought.

It takes her a few moments to answer. “It’s an old one. It's fine.”

Carson considered his options. Really he would need to examine her properly to assess exactly what was wrong with her leg. Presuming she had a limp or some other give away symptom that Simon could spot It could be because of any one of a number of issues and there really wasn’t any way to tell without being more invasive. Perhaps he could figure it out if he knew the cause. “How did it happen?”

He watched as her jaw tightened, her face giving little away other than the unpleasantness of whatever memory was running through her mind. Carson waited patiently for her to decide on a response, the silent presence behind him still fraying his nerves.

“A few things. I fell down a gorge once.”

Her vague answer confirmed his more sinister suspicions. Had it been a simple accident or a result of some encounter with the dead it would have been much easier to explain. Filing the knowledge away for later use Carson nodded. “I imagine its painful.”

“I manage.”

“I'll need to do an x-ray to determine the exact injury. If you have lasted a significant period of time with it a little longer won’t make much more of a difference. I can give you some aspirin for now for the pain.” Carson reeled out the words like clockwork, absently noting his findings down in the paper. His mind was preoccupied with the significance of the new information. Negan had a family member of some kind here. It was important she was looked after properly. Clearly something or someone had happened to her at some point over the years and it would be his job to undo the damage that had been caused. The realisation made his chest tighten almost painfully. His life was in her hands and she had no clue whatsoever. He was after all under no illusion that he would be spared from Negan’s wrath should anything go awry.

“You have an x-ray?” Grace momentarily overcame her anxiety to almost sound impressed, although the doubt was palatable in her tone.

Realising the girl in front of him was entirely oblivious to his predicament, Carson did his best to pull himself together. He forgot how strange it would seem to most people that they still had functioning medical equipment. “Yes. We are very fortunate.”

Sometimes Carson hated his job. He regretted the fact that he ever went to medical school but not because of his actual job but rather the position it put him in almost constantly in this new world. His mind and skillset were both highly sought after and all too often people would try to manipulate him or he would be put in such a position where he would be held accountable for something beyond his control. Carson had long sine realised it would be the death of him one day but in a sense it also prolonged his life given his valued status so he had mixed thoughts on the matter. Regardless, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to leave Negan’s room and get as far away from the situation as possible. “I'll need a list of your previous injuries, although that could perhaps wait as long as none of them require any medical attention.”

Noting how the girl seemed to relax slightly, Carson decided to wind things up. There was nothing immediately requiring his attention that he was aware of and he had covered the bases to protect himself from scrutiny. He imagined Negan would bring her to see him once he got back, he could properly examine her then. It wasn’t him to push her after all. Taking a bottle of aspirin from his bag he ran through his checklist before handing them over. “Do you have any allergies?”

At the shake of her head, Carson continued. “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

A pregnant pause filled the air giving the doctor cause to look up from the paper. Grace was staring blindly into the vacant space between them with wide eyes. She swallowed thickly, her lips trembling slightly with the effort of finding a reply. “Not really.”

Carson furrowed his brow. Clearly something was amiss but he couldn’t do anything until he knew exactly what it was. He knew better to assume but obviously it was distressing her. “I’m afraid I'll need a yes or no answer. If you have been sexually active recently then it would be best to err on the side of caution.”

Erring on the side of caution himself, Carson busied himself with making small notes in the margins of the paper, hoping to give the woman some semblance of privacy to decide on a reply. The silence in the room was deafening, so much so that when Simon cut through it with his sharp tone ice flooded through the doctors veins with a start.

“For fucks sake Carson don't make her say it. Put a fucking tick in the box and move on.”

Looking up sharply to Grace he found her trembling in the chair, tears freely streaming down her ashen face. His stomach dropped. Opening his bag, Carson deposited the aspirin and pulled out another bottle, trying to get through the situation as quickly as possible. “I have some Tylenol you can take. It'll be safer. Also if you can come down to my clinic I have some tests-“

“-Okay doc. You’re done.”

Rough hands seized him by the arm hauling him to his feet. Carson managed to grab his bad somehow, the fear of whatever consequences he could face stunning him into submission as he was wheeled towards the door. Spluttering, he pulled himself together enough to try and make a case for himself.

“I was simply-“

Turning the doctor by his shoulders to face him, Simon seemed to convey something in his expressive face that Carson couldn’t decipher. Rolling his eyes at Carson’s confused expression Simon leaned into the space between them, his tone more gentle and understanding than Carson had expected.  
  
“Enough for today. Thanks for stopping by.”

Plucking the bottle of Tylenol from his hand, Carson was pushed through the threshold of Negan’s private quarters and out into the hall, the door closing abruptly behind him.

Blinking, Carson stood in silence in the empty hallway for a few long moments trying to calm his eratic heart. His mind reeled, going over the last few minutes over and over unable to stop himself from worrying. Clearly she was distraught but he didn’t really think it was his fault. He was trying to do his job after all and with the other strays he had been far less lenient and far more invasive in his examination. He supposed it didn’t matter what had actually happened, what mattered was what Simon told Negan and how Negan reacted to whatever Simon would tell him. Over time Carson had learned just how unpredictable that particular system could be so he tried unsuccessfully not to worry about it.

Forcing himself into action Carson set off back along the hallways to his clinic once again. His mind occupied with the newcomer Grace and if her arrival would change anything.

 


	5. Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the huge delay in updates and a big thank yoy to everyone who has read liked commented and subscribed to this story. You all give me life and I'm super greatful.
> 
> This isn't the last we'll see of Grace. I have a separate two shot half done already as well as a few one shot sequels to this fic in mind too. I'll make a series or of it. 
> 
> Much love. Stay safe. X

Everything was wrong

Grace hadn’t even opened her eyes yet but every fibre of her being screamed at her to run. Everything felt unfamiliar and strange, the feel of the hard cold floor underneath her, the distinct lack of wind in the air, the way crusty clothes no longer grated against her skin etching holes into her flesh, the fact that she could smell something other than rotting mulch and blood, the dullness of the hunger gnawing at her insides and the weight of her head without the matted nest that had accumulated there. Even the pain radiating from her ankle felt different - She supposed it was the drugs but it was wrong all the same.

She hadn’t intended on falling asleep. In fact she had outright refused when Simon suggested it, too cautious to tempt fate anymore than she had already. She had to periodically convince herself that she might see her dad again, that she wasn’t walking into a trap – something which was getting more and more difficult as time went on.

Politely declining his offer as best she could - partly because he hadn’t given her a reason to be hostile yet and partly because she was too scared to anger him – she had set herself up under the open window on the floor. Settling down in a bed or even a chair at this point seemed too overwhelming and if Simon minded he hadn’t shown it so Grace did her best to force herself to relax, watching the sky as it turned different shades of red and gold as the day went on. A belly full of food, more water in one sitting than she’d had in weeks and the slight haze of the pain medication must have lulled her to sleep despite herself.

Simon was a man of few words. Short of offering her something to read and reassuring her that she was safe and she was allowed to eat and drink if she wanted, he had said little else since the doctor had left, handing her some medicine and pocketing the rest in the little bottle. He had busied himself with some kind of paperwork, something important by the concentrated expression on his face. Grace had been somewhat grateful for that; She didn't want to talk either.

Opening her eyes, Grace was faced with a cool stone wall shrouded in the darkness of night. What light was left in the sky from before she fell asleep had vanished, replaced by a dim glow of moonlight streaming in from the window above her. Behind her was the rest of the large room but she didn’t dare to turn around just yet.

She didn’t move. Her body ached to stretch out but she wouldn’t let herself. Keeping her breathing as even as possible she tried to sense her surroundings from her spot on the floor.

Simon had been sitting on the couch, paperwork sprawled around him, cigarette in hand with an open bottle of tequila on the table. She couldn’t smell the smoke now but from the faint snoring in the room she supposed that wasn’t exactly surprising. The open window would have taken care of any lingering smell.

Everything else was quiet. Grace supposed they both must have fell asleep waiting for her dad to come back from wherever he was. If it even was him. She had to remind herself periodically that he knew her birthday, no one else knew that. That knowledge was the only thing stopping her from trying to run out the door. There was every chance it was real. Of course there was every chance it was a trap but the whole place seemed too elaborate. It was hard to believe that many people would be in on the joke.

At least no one had tried to kill her yet. She decided that was a bonus. And - even if it all went south, at least she had gotten a good meal inside her, water and even some medicine too. Not to mention a shower and clean clothes. It was more than she had had in years.

Tentatively, her eyes now adjusted to the darkness, Grace sat up. She was careful not to make a sound as though she might set off a horde of the dead. The moonlight cast long shadows into the room giving everything an eerie glare. She didn’t really let herself look around before but now Simon was asleep she felt more at ease to let her eyes linger.

Reaching out for the bottle of water that Simon had insisted was hers, she took a long drink. The bed was huge, like something she used to see on MTV cribs back before everything went to shit. In fact the whole room seemed to fit the description. Large desk, a wall of bookcases – There was even a chandelier on the celling for fuck’s sake.

It made Grace nervous. Her childhood home looked nothing like this room. There was nothing even remotely familiar about it to give her any indication that her dad slept here. Times change, people change – of course she knew that, and it had been a really long time, but it made her nervous all the same.

Calloused fingers scrape at her scalp through her cropped hair. It was going to take some getting used to but it felt miles better than the tangled mess that had been there before. Grace had emerged from the bathroom earlier that afternoon after scrubbing layers of grime from her skin and taking the liberty of using the scissors she had found in there to be met with Simon’s startled expression.

She cringed, remembering her panic and her rush to apologise for whatever it was that she had done wrong. Her stomach had fallen through the floor beneath her at the thought of ruining what chance she had at in this new place, eyes watering with just how sorry she was. She still wasn’t entirely convinced she hadn’t angered the man but she didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell otherwise. He had seemed sincere enough when he had reassured her and explained it was more to do with her resemblance to the photograph but Grace wouldn’t know much about that. She had made a point to avoid her reflection.

An ache in the pit of her stomach had Grace easing to her feet to find her way back to the bathroom. If she had been allowed a shower and to cut her hair then Grace reasoned that using the bathroom wasn’t much more of a stretch. The alternative wasn’t worth thinking about. A familiar pain radiated from her ankle, the painkillers mostly having worn off by now but she ignored it, compensating with the other leg in practiced determination to get up without making a sound.

Sparing a cautious glance to Simon who seemed to have moved into the armchair closer to where Grace had been laying, she gasped, the involuntary rush of air deafening to her ears.

It wasn’t Simon.

The jolt of panic at having missed people moving about around her was nothing compared to the way her gut twists as she takes a closer look at the sleeping newcomer and realises exactly who had taken Simon’s place.

He really was alive.

He looked so much older. In her mind he hadn’t aged at all which was of course ridiculous but to see him now seemed too surreal. Grace trembles, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with the realisation of just how long it had been since she had last laid eyes on him, the years coming back to her all at once. After everything, he was alive. She had found him.

It had been so long. His face had thinned out at some point though she didn’t think he looked underfed, he looked stronger, hardened. The lines around his face were more prominent than ever and she could tell even in this light that he had started to go grey. Cass would have loved to take the piss out of that.

He really was alive.

For a long moment she just looked, terrified that it might all be some sick dream. He was dressed all in black with in a leather jacket that made him look more like a biker than anything else. The corners of her mouth twitch as she thinks about how her mom would have joked about him having a midlife crisis.

After the outbreak, when Cass had told her just how bad her mother’s condition really was as opposed to the optimistic reports her parents had supplied whenever she had asked, Grace had realised that her mother would probably already be dead. She had had years to come to terms with it since and knew that the chances of her making it in this new world were practically impossible. Seeing her dad here, alone in this big room however really hit it home. She really was gone. It made Grace ache to know that her dad had been alone in it all. At least she had had Cassandra with her for most of it.

As terrified as she was, Grace decided that least they weren’t alone anymore. Now that she had found him she’d be damned if she was going to lose him too. They had each other.

Her eyes water with a storm of emotions. Grief, fear, frustration, anxiety, pain, hope, love, relief. She had found him. It was impossible to wrap her head around it. Her whole life had been fixated around surviving, making it home and finally when she had given up all hope of seeing him again fate had brought them together.

For a few long moments she just stared, watching his chest rise and fall as the sound filled the air. He really was alive. Eventually though, despite her inner turmoil, nature was not to be ignored. She really had to go take a piss.

Eyes lingering on his sleeping form as though he might disappear any moment, Grace made her way to the bathroom careful to be as quiet as possible. The entire situation overwhelmed her. Not for the first time since being surrounded by those men in the woods, Grace found herself having no clue what to do.

Should she wake him? She wasn’t sure exactly when it was he had arrived – maybe he would be tired – would he be angry? Maybe she should let him sleep and just wait. Less chance of annoying him that way.

Grace shakes her head as though it would somehow clear the bog from her mind. With a shaky sigh she runs her nails over her scalp again, the feeling still foreign. This was her dad she was talking about here. He wouldn’t be like the others. It would be fine. It would be all fine. She didn’t need to be so scared.

Feeling so very far from fine, Grace eases to her feet and washes her hands. It would take some getting used to, functioning like an actual human being again, if she ended up staying that is. Still no closer to determining her next plan of action it would seem that the choice would be taken out of her hands again as a ruffling noise from the next room instantly makes her still, her baited breath the only sound in the silence that follows.

A deep drawl that sounds familiar but completely strange at the same time booms in the quiet. “Grace-Lynn? Gracie? Shit!”

Grace hesitates by the door as heavy boots march across the room away from her, unsure if she should come out or wait. Knowing one way or another she couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever she quietly opens the door and peers around the doorframe.

Her father, silhouetted by the light coming from the window is tall and broad. For some reason that sticks out to her, like she needs to absorb anything and everything she can about him. He had always been tall but then most adults are when you’re young. She edges further out from the threshold as in one fluid motion he pulls the door wide allowing artificial light from the hallway stream into the room illuminating his profile in an orange glow. There was no doubt about it being him now. His voice is tense and agitated as he snaps at some unseen person on the other side. “Did she fucking walk right by you?”

The other voice sounds startled. “No? – No Negan. No one has been up here since Simon left either.”

With a huff he scowls, glancing back behind him into the room, scanning for anything out of place. An icy sensation washes over Grace as she realises she's about to be caught. Reminding herself she isn't actually in danger doesn't help in the slightest, every last muscle in her body aching in tension as his eyes lock onto her figure.

Without a second thought to the concerned voice outside he swings the door closed, the resounding bang and the sudden silence that follows making her flinch lightly.

Thankfully they don’t stand in silence for long. “Shit Grace I thought you’d fucking bolted.” He mutters in relief, distractedly crossing the room while Grace can only gape. He moves not towards her like she had pre-empted but to the side which makes sense once he flicks a switch and a lamp instantly lights the room in a warm glow. It almost looks cosy.

For a couple of long moments he just stands there, looking. His form casts a long shadow on to the floor. Grace knew he was waiting for her to do something. Anything. But she just didn’t know what to do. White noise occupied her every thought and it was enough of a struggle to just control the trembling never mind force her body into action. She was terrified.

His features soften more by the second. Grace just stands there watching him furrow his brow gently and when he speaks the fire that was in his voice moments ago has been replaced by something tender and warm, trying to coax her out. It’s like something from a dream. “Say something sweetheart.”

It had been a little while since she had last seen another living person. Four months or so maybe judging by the seasons, not that she was in good company before that mind you. With every day melting into the next Grace couldn’t decide if it had felt like an eternity or if it had passed all too quickly. She had spent almost the entire time on tender hooks, desperately trying to cover her tracks and lead false trails, trying to cover as many miles as possible, doubting it would ever work. It was only a matter of time before they found her again of course. She got so used to being as silent as possible to either avoid being punished or alerting the rotters that actual words felt foreign in her mouth, becoming almost a struggle to speak at all. She had spoken more in one day than she had in months and it was exhausting.

There was one thing she had to just had to say though. A tear escapes from her eye in a blink as she purses her lips together before mustering the courage to speak. “I’m so sorry.”

Making a pained groan in the back of his throat her father shakes his head. Tentatively as though conflicted about whether or not it’s a good idea he starts to walk towards her, his hands out to placate her, stopping short of actually touching her. “Honey you don’t have to be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about - look at you - I’m so fucking proud of you Gracie.”

There was a part of Grace that longed to run into her father’s arms. To take his praise and love and bury herself inside the safety he seemed to radiate. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that she was something to be proud of but after everything, she couldn’t. She didn’t deserve it. She hadn’t earned it. She wasn’t good enough.

Taking a step backwards with wide fearful doe eyes, Grace shook her head, stopping the man in his tracks. He needed to know. There was a lot he needed to know, most of which she was too afraid to even think of but she had to tell him that at least. She had rehearsed the lines over and over in her mind over the years, never once actually believing she would get the chance to tell him the truth.

“No daddy, we lied. We lied to you. There was no school trip. Cassie’s boyfriend won these tickets to a concert in Nashville and he was gonna take her then I found out and talked them into letting me come and you were so busy with work and helping mom that you didn’t notice and we took advantage and if we hadn’t we wouldn’t have been so far away when it all turned to shit. I’m so sorry.”

Her voice breaks, giving way to the enormous pressure on her chest, not even entirely sure she spoke coherently or not. She remembered the night she had sobbed into her sister’s chest, breaking her heart over being so far away from home, missing her parents and everything they had lost. She was naive It was only the tip of the iceberg but it was the first in a long line of things she was so devastatingly sorry for.

Her father, cocking his head to the side, looks on at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Was it pity? Or was he just playing a game? “Oh shit. Sweetheart you’ve been thinking that this whole time? Darlin’ I had you both figured out before you even knew about those fucking tickets. I heard that boy on the radio in the staff room. I knew the whole time.”

Grace blinked once. Then twice. He knew? The guilt hanging over her this whole time seemed to shatter all around her. Time itself seemed to freeze as she stuttered, trying to wrap her head around the information. “You did? Then why did you let us-?”

He scoffs the bitter sound cutting her off. “-Your mom. She wanted you to go so you could tell her all about it when you got back.”

The deafening silence that follows is haunted with a thousand questions. There was only one that really mattered.

“She’s dead now isn’t she?”

Furrowing his brow, her father drops his gaze to some uninteresting spot on the floor. He presses his lips together hard before nodding. Grace aches for him, things might not have been perfect between her parents before all this but she knew how much he loved her. She wanted to reach our to him and tell him that he didn’t have to be alone anymore but she didn’t know how, sharing the solemn space with him instead.

Eventually he breaks the silence, glancing over to the photograph still on the table he clears his throat. “You made it home huh?”

It had been no small miracle when she found herself verging onto familiar streets. Getting there had been the only thing keeping her going for so long that actually reaching her destination gave her an altered sense of reality. Of course she knew it would be as bad there as anywhere else. Of course she knew the desolate streets would be littered with the dead remnants of her hometown. Of course she knew her parents wouldn’t be at home. Seeing it for herself however, was different.

She made it home. She knew that she had to keep moving but after everything, she couldn’t deny herself that. Making the long journey was no small achievement and Grace had sobbed with the weight of it all, wishing her sister was with her for the hundredth time that day. Even after all those years the house still looked the same, lingering memories etched into the walls and the fabric. The place had been turned over a few times for supplies, but Grace hadn’t gone back to look for beans. The distinct lack of blood in the house gave little comfort. The photo frames and albums were all still accounted for. The safe had yet to be emptied which gave her a gun but was confirmation that her parents never made it back home.

She knew she couldn’t stay forever though. Leaving her childhood home had been one of the more difficult things she had had to do, surprising given the events from the last few years. It had felt so final and giving that it had been her only real goal since the world went to shit she found herself feeling more lost than ever before.

Grace nodded, unsure of how to tell him just how hard it had been. “Yeah. I know you said not to go home but – we started trying to get there anyway.”

With a nod them a sigh he leans against the wall beside her, moving that little bit closer. “I owe you an apology Grace. Both you and Cass. I should have come to get you. Find you. Something. That phone call? The way it sounded from my end, the way it cut off? I thought you-“

Grace shakes her head resolutely . “-it’s okay. Cass said you probably did. Besides if you had tried to find us we probably would have missed each other completely anyway.”

He looks like he wants to say something then. His mouth hesitating for a moment. He looks pretty upset, not that you’d know unless you knew what to look for. In all the times she had pictured seeing him again in her mind, it had never been like this. She had pictured finding him on the road one day, calling out to him and running into his arms or him finding her deep in the forest, saving her from the monsters and taking her far away and everything would be happy and bright again. It was almost something out of a fairy tale, but the reality was much harsher, much more gritty. Plagued by her own demons Grace found herself upon a new fear now she finally had something else to lose. Raking up the past only managed to cause more pain.

When he eventually asks the question the words twist at her insides. “Is Casandra - is she out there somewhere honey?”

She knew he would ask. She had wondered how she would explain it to her parents ever since she died. Would he blame her too? She wasn’t really sure what to believe anymore.

They had been so hungry. It had been a gamble of course but at the time it had seemed worth it. The berries were most definitely not edible but by the time they had figured that out it had been too late. Waking up in the back of a truck Grace-Lynn could just tell it was going to be bad.

The men had figured out early on that punishing one sister for the others ‘misbehaviour’ was a good way of making them both fall in line. She had never seen Cassandra so angry or vicious. It took them both a while to figure out they were just going to be able to fight their way out or sneak away.

Grace hadn’t wanted to try and run, the men were too fast, well fed and too good at tracking and hunting for her to believe they would ever get far enough away in time. She knew they had to try though and Cass would never leave her behind. She didn’t think she could take much more anyway.

When they were caught – because of course they were – Cass took the brunt of their punishment no matter how much Grace tried to insist it had been her idea instead. All Grace could do was watch and pray, not that that ever did anyone any good.

Sometimes she forgot. Sometimes she had to remind herself that it was their fault not hers that Cass got sick. It wasn’t her that wouldn’t help her sister. It was those people who made it worse. They were the ones who forced her to watch while her sister slowly died in front of her. They weren't the ones who had to put her down when she got back up again.

She couldn't tell him that. It didn't matter how she died the point was that she was dead. Looking anywhere but at her father, Grace shook her head. “No.”

She didn't want to see his face when he found out but she couldn’t stop herself from hearing the break in his voice as he shifted beside her. “Darlin’ I’m so fucking sorry.”

Grace frowned. He should be angry with her not upset. It would be easier to deal with. She knew how to take anger, not pity. Or was it something else? “You didn’t kill her dad. You don’t need to be sorry.”

Caught up in her own grief the words don’t quite register as he speaks. “Someone killed her?”

She could be sorry though. God was she sorry. While she realised that there was no good way it could have ended for them, what ifs and maybes plagued her mind. There could have been some other way, some other path where maybe she wouldn’t have died. Maybe.

It’s not until a large calloused hand comes down against her shoulder with the lightest of touches that Grace jars out of her thoughts. “How long have you been on your own sweetheart?”

What month was it now? She wasn’t even sure. However long it had been it wasn't long enough given the company she had been surrounded by it would never be long enough – but she didn't want to talk about them. Hesitantly she replies, dodging the real answer. “She died two winters ago.”

The man in front of her furrows his brow and nods, tightening his grip ever so slightly. “It’s okay. What matters is that you’re here. You’re safe now okay?”

Eyes widening, Grace glanced up at her father quickly recoiling from his touch with a shake of her head. “There’s no such thing as safe. I’m only going to bring trouble here.”

Her breathing picking up again against her own volition, Graces eyes flitted around the room, unseeing through the panic flooding her mind once more. She had to leave. She couldn’t let them find her dad, they wouldn’t take him away from her too.

“I should go. I should – They’re coming and – I can’t let them find you. I-“ Grace isn’t even aware she’d started to cross the large room until her wrist snags in her father’s grip.

“You’re on the run.” His voice level Grace can tell it isn’t a question. She makes eye contact with him for a split second before tugging against his grip, no that it does her any good.

“They won’t stop. They’ll find me and I can’t – not again. They’re never gonna stop.”

She whimpers in protest as she finds herself being wheeled around to perch against the edge of one of the armchairs. With strong arms pinning her in place, her father crouches down to bring his face level to hers. Ice cold fear washes over her but the man looks far more perplexed than angry. “No Gracie I want you to fucking listen to me right now.”

He waits until she replies, unable to stop herself from trembling she manages to nod. “You, are not going anywhere darlin’. You hear me? I only just got you back.” He adds with a waver to his voice that makes her heart ache.

“But-“

“No buts. None. I don’t give a flying fuck who is out there.”

He didn't understand. He didn't understand and it was going to get him killed. She had to make him see reason. “They killed Cass.”

At that his expression only darkened. His eyes migrate slightly to where she knew the long fresh scar ran down her face. “They the ones who hurt you too?”

She couldn’t talk about that. Not yet. As bile rose in her throat she manages a small nod as another set of hot tears escapes making tracks down her cheeks.

Easing up to his full height, he releases his hold on her with gritted teeth. “Then I hope they come.”

Grace shot her hand out grabbing onto her father’s arm with hysteria setting in. He had to be made to understand. “They’ll kill everyone. Please – You don’t understand. We ran away. We thought we were safe. We joined a group and they found us and killed them all to get us back. Even their kids. I can’t lose you again. Please.”

Covering her hands with his own he seemed to chose his words carefully. “Grace-Lynn. Take a minute and think about everything you saw today. That group that found you. This factory. All those people. The workshops and markets downstairs.”

Waiting for some kind of recognition to register on her face, he continues. “That’s only the tip of the iceberg honey. I’m rebuilding a whole civilisation here and I have the numbers and the power to take on anyone who dares threaten the new order. That includes you now Gracie. Trust your old man, darlin’.”

Grace didn’t want to cry, she hated how weak it made her feel but she felt so overwhelmed she couldn’t help the sobs that started wrecking their way through her body. So many things seemed uncertain and she was so terrified of what could be that it was hard for her to imagine an alternative. This time though she had something she didn’t have back then. Her dad. Maybe it really would make all the difference.

Taking the initiative, her father wraps his arms around her, gently pulling her into his warm embrace. She shudders, not used to to the sensation but she clings onto him tightly, terrified of falling apart more than she already had. He hushes her softly. “It’s okay honey, it’s okay. I just- I wasn’t there for you when I should have been. But I am now. No one is gonna get you. I fucking promise.”

Fisting the lapel of his jacket, Grace buries her face into his chest. “I'm sorry daddy. I’m so sorry.”

Lowering them both to the floor, her father rocked her gently in his arms for as long as she needed. “Everything is going to be alright from now on sweetheart. I promise.”

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Grace finally felt like she was home.

  



End file.
